


eighteen hours

by acastle



Series: in time [1]
Category: VICTON (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, M/M, Minor Choi Byungchan/Im Sejun, Sex, Strangers to Lovers, Time Traveler Seungwoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24718618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acastle/pseuds/acastle
Summary: “Time travelers?” Seungwoo says, staring on. “Dad, what? Usually, I’m all for your jokes, but-““No! No, really,” he says, waving his hands. “It’s cool.”“It’s also fake,” Seungwoo says, and his father tsks at him. Rude.(Seungwoo's apparently from a family of time travelers. He doesn't believe it, but when he spills beer on the prettiest angel he'd ever seen, going back in time suddenly becomes very needed.)
Relationships: Han Seungwoo/Kang Seungsik
Series: in time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790377
Comments: 42
Kudos: 124





	eighteen hours

**Author's Note:**

> hello! it's my first time writing for victon. I am a very new alice, and I'm still figuring things out, so please bear with me!
> 
> loosely based on 'about time'

Seungwoo didn’t know what to make of it, when on the day he turns twenty-five, the first thing that had happened as soon as he woke up was his father coming into his room and saying, “The day has come.”

“What?” he whines, pouting as he rubs his eyes and staring at him. He doesn’t know how he’d gotten here. He’d been sure he locked his door before he’d gone to sleep. And he’s in his apartment, several cities away from where his parents lived. 

His dad is in his apartment. 

He’s instantly much more awake, but also. Not. His father had always been particular. 

“What are you - _ahhhh -_ doing here?” he yawns and slurs his words as he sits up, stretching his arms up to the sky, knowing he looks _especially dashing_ for a newly-minted kind-of-adult twenty-five year old, with gunk in his eye and his hair all over the place. 

“Your mother wanted to make you a good birthday breakfast,” he replies casually, and it’s then that Seungwoo is made aware of the noise in the kitchen, his older sister enumerating the sad contents of his refrigerator out loud, his mother’s appalled voice saying _“How does he_ **_live_ ** _with a kitchen this tiny, barely a fridge and a sink, my goodness-“_

Well, she’s not wrong. But he has a nice wide area for his work studio, enough room for his sewing machine and bolts of fabric and a patterning table. Fancy. 

“But what are you doing in my room?” he asks then, staring up at his dad. 

He grins. Seungwoo glares, not trusting it at all. 

“I’ve been assigned to wake you up,” he says, the grin unmoving. 

Seungwoo stares at him. “I’m awake.”

“Good,” his father says. His voice goes down to a whisper when he continues, “Now, I can tell you, I’ve been waiting for this day to come.”

“Why are you whispering?” he says, a little too loudly, and his father waves his hands, glaring back as he gestures for him to keep it down. 

“Because, this is a _secret,”_ he grins. He sits at the foot of Seungwoo’s bed, and he gives him a smile. “Something that’s been passed down to the men of our bloodline for centuries. Oh, _shit,_ I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you,” he says, looking genuinely touched, alone, while Seungwoo stares on, not knowing what’s going on. 

But, he’s always respected and loved his father, who is really one of the coolest men he knows, because of all his eccentricities. And there are more than a few. 

“I had this talk with my father when I turned twenty-five,” he explains, and he looks at Seungwoo, and. Despite all the eccentricities, though, there is nothing that really prepares Seungwoo for when he tells him, “We’re a family of time travelers.”

Seungwoo stares. 

His father stares back. “Wait, shit, my delivery was shit, let me try again-“

“Time travelers?” Seungwoo says, staring on. “Dad, what? Usually, I’m all for your jokes, but-“

“No! _No,_ really,” he says, waving his hands. “It’s _cool.”_

“It‘s also _fake,”_ Seungwoo says, and his father _tsks_ at him. Rude. “Also really sexist, if you were gonna prank me, at least make it an inclusive one. Women can be time travelers too-”

“I’m not saying they can’t, but it’s just the way it is,” his father says. “And it’s _not_ a prank, every male in our bloodline, once they reach the age of twenty-five, have the ability to travel through their history.”

“Is this your birthday gift to me? A non-existent superpower? Because I’m about to get really sad.”

“No, we’ve got a nice watch wrapped up nicely for you, pretend to be surprised when you see it later so your mother won’t be disappointed,” he says. Well, Seungwoo _has_ been needing a nice watch. It’s been rather taxing to have to look at his phone to tell the time. “No, it’s real. I didn’t believe at first, when my father told me-“

“Liar, you probably got all excited and tried it out the moment he told you,” Seungwoo says, giving him a look. 

“There was no need to be so honest,” he says, not even denying it. Seungwoo had figured. “But that’s how I found out he hadn’t been lying. He told me to go to a dark, secluded spot, like the inside of the closet or something, and think back or forward when I want to go, and it _worked._ And it _will work_ if you just believe-“

Seungwoo doesn’t even say anything, groaning as he flops back to the bed, only for his dad to _tsk_ again, dragging him back up to sit properly, saying, “Why would you be so unwilling to _believe,_ it’s not as if it’s a bad thing.”

“No, it’s just impossible and stupid,” Seungwoo wriggles and whines as he attempts to get back to starfishing his bed, already _over it._

His dad makes a small chuckle, saying in an amused tone, _“Bet.”_

Seungwoo groans, glares from beneath his pillow, _“Fine._ You know what, _if_ I try it and it doesn’t work, which it _won’t,_ I’ll tell mom _you’re_ the one who spilled the wine on her laptop at home, _and_ you have to pay me back for taking the fall to replace it.”

His father looks curious to be threatened as such, but he’s not so phased, saying, “Alright. Then _when_ it works, you have to pay me back for lying to your sister and saying Milo had run away when you left his cage open.”

Seungwoo gasps, smacking his dad’s back in a wily manner. “That’s supposed to be _our secret!”_

“I didn’t say I was going to tell her,” he replies, and Seungwoo huffs, feeling _betrayed._

“Fine, whatever,” he says, rolling his eyes, “It won’t happen anyway. I’m not going to let you make me look stupid like that.”

“Don’t kid yourself, we’re both idiots,” his father says, humming, and Seungwoo is tempted to kick him off the bed, but. That’s not in good taste. 

His father’s revelation, in any case, doesn’t linger in his mind for long. He has his birthday, gets his watch (pretends to be surprised under his father’s watchful gaze as his mother frets over him), and he has Christmas with his family the next day.

Truthfully, he forgets about it all the next week. And he probably wouldn’t remember at all.

Until the following week, on New Year’s Eve, that is.

He’s twenty-five, but feels very ancient, and wants to stay home and tinker around with the music he’d been writing and ignore his dissertation which he really needs to work on soon so he can get his doctorate out of the way and leave school _forever,_ but Hanse, being the little menace he is, comes barging into his apartment, declaring, “We’re going to _party tonight,_ maybe get you some dick, or ass. Get dressed.”

“I never should have told you where my extra keys were,” Seungwoo sighs, listening to a demo he’s crafting, promptly ignoring Hanse’s screeching. Hanse lives in the unit next to him; the screeching hasn’t deterred him for years. “No, _come on,_ I’m too _old_ for these parties-”

“You’re not an old man, even though you dress up like one,” he says.

Seungwoo frowns at him. “No I _don’t,_ my style is cool.”

“That’s what they all say,” Hanse says. He doesn’t pause, saying, “It’s not even that far, it’s on the rooftop of Sehuns and Byungchan’s place, swanky place, they have a _pool-”_

“All the more reason for me to say no,” Seungwoo says. “You remember your birthday?”

“Come on, they got better with the not being too _much_ in public together, you know?” Hanse tried. His eyes twitches. 

Seungwoo sighs. “It’s still no.”

Hanse quits playing around, brings out _the_ big gun, says, “Subin’s going.”

“What?” Seungwoo says, appalled, shocked, instantly in worried mother mode, “Why? He’s too young to go to parties like this.”

“It’s not like he’s not _that_ much younger than me, or even you,” Hanse says.

 _“Too young!_ Practically a _baby!”_ Seungwoo says, wailing, standing up and grabbing the nearest pair of pants.

It’s the first thing he says again when they get to the rooftop party and he sees Subin, a dreaded green bottle in one of his hands and a small paper cup in the other. _“A baby!”_

“No, I am _not,”_ Subin glares at him, _daring_ him to even try to take it away from him. “I am here for _New Year’s,_ there’s meat and beer and soju and _cake_ and I will _enjoy it,_ and you will not stop me.”

“He’s _fine,_ we’ve been watching over him,” Sejun says then, Byungchan hanging off of him with a balloon in his one hand, waving merrily as they grin at everyone from their perch on the pool’s ledge..

 _Oh god._ Seungwoo feels himself become even more fretful, grabbing Subin’s face and saying, “Are you okay? I’m here for you.”

 _“Please,_ stop,” Subin says, maneuvering away and escaping from him, and Seungwoo pouts, making to follow after him when Hanse pushes a glass of cold, cold beer onto his hand.

“I didn’t bring you here to babysit, hyung,” Hanse says, and there is a slight manic look in his eyes, and Seungwoo is afraid. “You’re going to enjoy tonight, if it’s the last thing I do.”

Seungwoo runs away instantly, can’t get far away enough for his comfort. He _loves_ his friends, really his family in the city, truthfully, but the last time he’d been to parties like this had been when he’d graduated from university with his undergraduate degree, and it had been _instant,_ the way he felt _too old_ for things like this after he had gotten his diploma and began working under Blanc Grp. Ltd., and had just gotten even more exhausting after he took his graduate studies and now, with the doctorate that he is beginning to regret a little.

He’s _too old,_ and this place is filled with people who are _too young,_ and he wants to go home. 

He meanders around, feeling a bit out of place and wondering if he can just take off without anyone noticing, even if it would be a dick move to leave Hanse behind even though he deserves it for being such a little shit. The beer goes lukewarm in his hand, and he sighs, thinking he should just throw it out and maybe hide in the bathroom, but before he can even really seriously consider it, the following occurs:

A loud screeching, and he’s used enough to Hanse to not be shocked by it, but it’s Sejun and Subin, both decidedly _not_ sober, because Subin would never be so shameless as to be arm in arm with Sehun, singing loudly _and_ incoherently to a song Seungwoo doesn’t know, that makes Seungwoo jump, failing to scurry away in time. 

And, of course, that’s when things go sideways, when he loses his footing, the liquid flying out of the cup, and he watches in horror as it spills _all over_ the person who catches him.

“Oh, _oh no,_ I’m so sorry,” Seungwoo says, his face going red as he stands up straight again, and he looks up, and feels his face get even more heated and flushed.

The person in front of him is so _pretty,_ with the _kindest_ features that are tinged in shock as he takes in the state of his torso, beer soaking his shirt and some of his jacket, and Seungwoo stares on, taking in the stranger’s pink, peach locks, so _soft_ and pretty and complementing this _angel’s_ small eyes that disappeared as he begins laughing, _laughing_ even though Seungwoo had probably ruined his night and _his clothes,_ the horror. 

The angel looks up at him, smiling kindly as he asks in the _softest_ tone, “Are you alright?”

 _Am I alright?_ Seungwoo asks himself, wondering how this person can be _so nice_ even though Seungwoo should be asking him that. “I, yeah, I think. I’m so sorry, it’s all over you.”

“No, don’t worry about it, I’m fine,” he replies, smiling, and Seungwoo is _done for,_ the curl at the end of the angel’s lips so achingly endearing, and Seungwoo has an _urge_ to pinch his cheeks, rounded and gentle and so unlike his own, just the _prettiest angel_ and Seungwoo is an _idiot._

“Hey, Sik, I got some cake, do you - _what happened?”_ someone who seems to know the angel stares with wide eyes, coming over instantly and freezing, not knowing what to do. Sejun, the _idiot,_ sees the cake and yells, before taking it. 

Seungwoo wants to _melt away._

“I’m _so sorry,”_ he says, and the angel just laughs again.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m fine,” he says, both to him, and to his friend. “I’ll just go clean myself up a bit.”

“You sure? I can go with you,” his friend replies, and he just smiles.

“Yeah, I’m good, thanks Chan,” he says, before looking back at Seungwoo, and giving him a small smile, before leaving. 

Seungwoo wants to _cry._

He seems frozen, unsure if he should just _leave_ and bury himself under all his covers and become a mushroom for the rest of his life, if he should never speak to Sejun and Subin and Hanse and Byungchan again (or at least until they butter him up with mint chocolate ice cream or chicken, he’s too weak for them), if he should just have a little breakdown right in the middle of his party.

“Hyung, _hyungggg,”_ Subin koalas around him, grinning up at him, and Seungwoo stares down at him. “He was _cute.”_

Seungwoo exhales, giving _up,_ and he takes the bottle in Subin’s hand. As expected, there’s barely a shot glass worth of soju left, but he knocks it back, appreciating the sweetness of the green grape flavor of the alcohol, and he stalks away to go to the stranger to help him.

And. It occurs to him a moment later that he has _no idea_ where he could be. 

_Idiot._

But, he has enough common sense to try the bathroom first, and he stares at the locked door, frozen for a moment, before he gives up _again,_ thinking that he has _nothing_ left to lose, and knocks lightly. 

“Hi, hello, um,” he says, floundering, and he feels himself get even more flushed with embarrassment as he clears his throat, “I’m sorry, I don’t wanna be a creep, but I’m the guy who spilled beer all over you, and I just wanted to ask if you needed any help? If, if that’s a thing that you wanted, but. _Oh,_ you probably don’t want to see me, and I don’t blame you for it. Fuck, _fuck,_ I swear, I’m not a stalker, or anything, I just want to help, but you might not even be the person I’m looking for, _what am I doing-”_

The door opens then, blessedly, or not blessedly, and the peach-haired angel, _puppy,_ looks at him with an amused, kind expression, saying, “I didn’t take you for a stalker, don’t worry. And, really, I’m okay. You don’t need to help, it’s not a big deal. Don’t feel too bad about it.”

“I just. I can’t help it,” he says, his voice small. “It’s New Years and your shirt gets ruined, it’s just. It’s shitty of me.”

“It’s not,” he says, smiling still. He pauses for a moment, considering, and eventually, he opens the door wider, gesturing for Seungwoo to come in.

Seungwoo stares, but follows, feeling awkward and too tall in the tight confines of the bathroom with a stranger he finds too cute for him to be casual. He’s handed a hairdryer, and he blinks, looking up.

“Could you help me dry myself out?” he says, and Seungwoo notices the wads of beer-sodden paper towels piled neatly on the sink, and he looks at him again, and. He looks down, _can’t help it,_ and his mouth goes dry as he takes in the angel’s torso. 

He can clearly see the lines of his stomach, wet fabric clinging to his skin and curving against the muscles there, and Seungwoo’s brain to mouth filter is practically non-existent when he says, “It’s, uh, it’s clinging to - yes, sorry, I’m really sorry” Seungwoo clears his throat before nodding, turning on the hairdryer before he says something even more stupid.

“It’s really okay,” he replies, chuckling a bit, peeling the shirt away from his body so the hot air can dry it better. 

“I should have been more careful,” Seungwoo says, blushing, “That shirt doesn’t look cheap.”

“Well. Don’t worry about it,” he replies, smiling, and Seungwoo wants to melt into the earth and never emerge, knowing from the tone that it _isn’t cheap._ “I’ll go have it dry cleaned. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“It’s, um. May I?” he says, awkwardly holding out a hand to ask for permission to touch the fabric. 

The angel blinks, but he nods, moving closer so Seungwoo can reach over to feel up the dryest bit of fabric he can find. His head goes a little haywire, ears going _hot_ as he desperately tries to not think about their proximity too much, and focuses instead on the shirt.

He knew from sight alone that the shirt must have been silk, lustrous and luxurious, and when the fabric flows back out like liquid after he scrunches it, it’s confirmed. He feels even _worse_ for spilling _lowly lukewarm beer_ all over it, and he looks up, finding that the angel is already looking at him, eyes shining and light, and Seungwoo feels himself pink up.

He lets go, leaning back up and pointing the hairdryer to the wettest part of the shirt as he clears his throat, saying, “There’s no need to have it dry-cleaned, just handwash with tepid water and mild detergent. I’d use a little white vinegar in the first rinse, just to keep it shiny, then just rinse again. It should be fine.”

“Oh, okay,” he says, blinking, and he tilts his head at him, and Seungwoo is about to have a meltdown at how effortlessly endearing he is. “Thank you, I’ll go do that. You look like you know clothes well.”

“I, uh, I guess I do,” Seungwoo says, feeling especially graceless as he figures out how to say what he wants to say. “I work with them a lot, so I should know.”

“Oh, that explains it then!” he says, smiling so widely his eyes disappear, _devastating_ for Seungwoo’s soul. “I knew you must have been involved with fashion, I really like your pants.”

“R-Really?” Seungwoo stares.

“Yeah, I do.”

“People, well, they don’t usually. Like my pants,” he finishes off lamely, looking down at his pants. He’d customized them himself, distressing them heavily, undoing the seams to add more fabric and make the legs even _wider,_ and hand painting it with sunflowers. 

Hanse had publicly disowned him when he’d first worn them out, which was really rich, considering Hanse had his roots and the ends of his hair bleached to the point they were orange. Like a bumblebee that spat fire and no mercy.

“Well, they’re wrong for that,” the angel says, not even pausing, sure in his words. He smiles, steals Seungwoo’s heart, introduces himself, “I’m Seungsik.”

“I’m Seungwoo,” he says, smiling, feeling awkward as hell, but taking the wide smile given to him, offered so kindly by the prettiest peach angel, his chest going warm and tight and feeling _lovely._

“So, how’d you get here?” Seungsik asks him, flapping his shirt to urge it to dry a little more, and Seungwoo has to lift his head up physically to not let his eyes linger too much on the slips of skin that peek through, doesn’t want Seungsik to be uncomfortable around him, but if anything, Seungsik seems instantly comfortable with him, easily humming and singing along to the song that plays loudly over the speakers outside under his breath. His voice is nothing short of angelic, pure and soft and Seungwoo almost doesn’t want to answer, just so he can keep on listening to him sing.

“I, I know some of the people here,” he replies. He pouts, saying, “But I think I’m too old to be here.”

“I think I’m too old to be here, too,” he replies, sighing along with him, before adding, “But Chan, my friend from a while ago, he wanted some company, and I couldn’t say no. Even though he’s too old to be here too.”

“I feel like an uncle, babysitting everyone,” he says, and Seungsik laughs, before he slips into song again. It’s nothing short of enchanting. 

Seungwoo can’t stop listening to him, and would forever. 

_Woah now,_ he tells himself, but he listens to Seungsik as he bounces a bit, jamming to the song, and he can’t help but say, “You have a really lovely voice.”

“I do?” Seungsik says, blinking at him. Seungwoo fights not to crumble under his gaze, so impossibly endearing. “Oh, thank you.” 

“You can do that for life,” he says, and Seungsik is the one who blushes, then. Seungwoo doesn’t care anymore, he _crumbles,_ biting the inside of his lips so his noises don’t spill out. 

“I, um. I kind of do?” Seungsik tells him. “I, I took it up in university, and I sing professionally. I work with it a lot too, I guess?”

“It shows, you really do have such a wonderful voice,” he tells him, and Seungsik goes very pink. Seungwoo can’t stop the smile that spreads all over his face, and before it goes even wider when he recognizes the song blasting over the speakers. He sings along, the song clearly practiced in his tone, the words seamless as he sings through them, and Seungwoo listens along, the song somewhat familiar.

He thinks he’s heard it maybe just once before, but it must have been a strong memory, as it begins to become more and more familiar. It takes him a moment, before he realizes that Seungsik’s face isn’t unfamiliar to him, nor his crystalline vocal, though, his hair had been dark then, and he gasps.

“Wait, I think,” he says, staring at him. “Wait, _Benny?_ I, _wait-”_

Seungsik laughs, blushing. “So, you saw our humble staging of ‘In The Heights,’ then-”

 _“‘Humble?’”_ Seungwoo says with wide eyes, “Don’t lie, everyone was crying, you. You were _amazing,_ I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you earlier-”

“Please, it really was just a small production,” he says, but his ears turn even pinker than his hair, and Seungwoo can just see how _pleased_ he is to be recognized for his talent. 

“If you thought that was a humble production, then I wonder just how good at a bigger stage you’ll be.”

“Thank you. I’m still kind of fresh out of school, so I’m just starting out. I’m not really that seasoned, yet.”

“Please, you really were great,” Seungwoo says, smiling at him, really grinning. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it was you sooner.”

“Ah, it must be the hair,” Seungsik says, sheeks pinking as he swoops his hair more to the side with his hand. Seungwoo’s kind of sure his brain short circuits. “This is for a role, it’s taking some getting used to, to be honest.”

“I’m pretty sure you can have any hair color, even _neon,_ and you’d still look like an angel,” Seungwoo says before he thinks. He realizes instantly, and wants the earth to swallow him up.

Seungsik goes very pink, and Seungwoo looks down, staring at the wet spot on Seungsik’s shirt and working very hard, aiming the hairdryer so that the hot air can dry it out quicker and he can _get out of here_ and cry in humiliation alone.

But, because he’s kind, Seungsik moves the conversation along, even though he _really_ doesn’t need to, Seungwoo has taken up too much of his time as it is and has made a fool of himself too many times to count in the past few minutes alone, and asks him, “and you? What do you do?”

“I’m just. Someone,” he replies, feeling a little lame, and Seungsik gives him a small frown, _too cute._

“I think you’re more than just someone,” he tells him, sounding so sure of his words.

And it’s not like Seungwoo is short on assurance in his life, it’s not like he’s constantly looking for validation or things like that. He lives and works for himself, and his family, and his found family, and it’s enough.

But. It’s really, _really,_ nice to hear.

“I’m someone who spilled beer all over you,” he says, not knowing what else to say, stumbling over his words and feeling really _clumsy_ and just not smooth, _at all._ He feels kind of stupid. 

“And I want to know a little more about you,” Seungsik tells him, not even missing a beat. His smile is so _kind,_ and Seungwoo wants to find himself a little home in the little dimple on Seungsik’s cheek. 

“I’m just. I’m kind of a fashion designer? Kind of?” he says, unsure of how to put his job description in simpler terms. “I, uh. I’m part of the design team of Blanc & Eclare. Kind of.”

“Really?” Seungsik says, smiling still. “You’re selling yourself short, that’s really cool.”

“It’s really not. It’s not as glamorous as you might think,” he says. “And I’m, uh, not really working with them right now? At least not full time, I’m. I’m taking up my doctorate, specializing in textiles and pattern engineering, and. Wait, this is boring, I’m sorry-”

“It’s not,” he’s reassured, “Pattern engineering?”

“Making clothes is a science, really not as fancy as people think,” he says. He can’t stop blushing. “And, uh, I make music, sometimes. I’m really not interesting.”

“I find you plenty interesting,” Seungsik tells him. “Ah, so I must have been very noisy, singing all the time.”

“No, it’s not noise when it sounds the way you do,” Seungwoo says. His ears burn almost instantly after he says it, and he stares even harder at Seungsik’s shirt, almost dry as he waves the hairdryer back and forth a little more voraciously.. 

He doesn’t see Seungsik’s expression, but there’s not a very long pause for silence, because the song changes again, and Seungsik makes a small noise, before he slips into the notes and words easily, _“‘Let’s take our time tonight, girl-‘”_

And he keeps singing, in that gentle tenor that Seungwoo finds himself wanting to listen to more and more, maybe never stop, and he looks up again, watching him sing and not care about anything else but the music.

It’s a pure joy on his face, quiet and just his, and Seungwoo finds himself feeling very lucky that he’s witnessing it at all. 

_“‘Oh, I love that dress, but you won’t need it anymore,’”_ he sings, and Seungwoo feels himself flush slightly when he continues, none the wiser, _“‘Let’s just kiss ‘til we’re naked, baby, Versace on the floor,’_ ah. Such a gentle, romantic song, isn’t it?”

Seungwoo goes from being embarrassed and warm, to confused and blank almost instantly. He stares at Seungsik, saying, “Um. I’m sorry, what was that now?”

Seungsik blinks, but answers, “You know, the song is so smooth and romantic? He has a way with words, and his voice is so expressive - I want to emulate that kind of depth and range, and he just sings about love and romance so well.”

“You _do_ have the depth and range,” Seungwoo says, face trying not to link up as he thinks of a way to explain himself. “It’s just? I’m pretty sure sure the song isn’t _just_ about _that.”_

“Huh?” he’s tilting his head again, and Seungwoo feels like dropping it.

He doesn’t, because he’s an idiot, says, “I’m pretty sure. It’s about, um, _doing it.”_

“Doing what?” Seungsik blinks. 

Seungwoo doesn’t push it, “Nevermind,” he says, lowering his head to hide his red face, clearing his throat as he says, “Oh, I think you’re dry.”

“Oh? Oh, I am,” he looks down, smiling as he feels down his stomach, and Seungwoo blinks rapidly, looking away to avoid blushing even more. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do,” he says, smiling, not knowing what to do. But he helps him clear out the sink and put everything back to general order, and they leave the bathroom together, talking and smiling and blushing. 

Seungwoo isn’t one to be so immediately at ease, but. Seungsik is calm, bright, soft, and he finds himself wanting to be nearer, take in a bit of his warmth and hope it makes him just even half as bright. 

It’s going well, _really_ well, and then, they get back to the party, and Seungwoo wants to melt into the earth again. 

“Oh, god,” he says, can’t avert his eyes quickly enough when he sees Byungchan and Sejun, a crowd amassed around them and looking on curiously as they dance to the song, _too literally._ “They’re at it again.”

“Oh, you know them?” Seungsik asks him. Seungwoo is pleading with the eart to swallow him whole. The earth doesn’t listen. 

“I guess I do,” he replies, physically flinching when the crowd gasps. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t even _want_ to know what they’re doing. 

“They’re the ones, I think - in the gym?”

“Oh _god,_ you know about that?” Seungwoo is just a bit away from running away. 

“Well, being honest, who doesn’t know about it?” and he’s right; Seungwoo _cannot_ believe. “But really, it must be nice. To have someone like that in your life, to be so at ease with each other and not be so concerned about everyone else.”

And, not for the first time tonight, Seungwoo stares at him, not knowing what to say, for someone to think like that and be openly kind and. Angelic.

Before he gets to say anything, though, the song stops, and the crowd begins to shout, and someone begins the countdown to the new year loudly, _“Ten! Nine! Eight-”_

“Oh, they still do these things?” Seungsik looks around them, and Seungwoo freezes when he sees people begin to couple up, Sejun and Byungchan not even waiting for the countdown to finish to _get to it,_ and his brain won’t stop _thinking._

Seungsik is really, really, _so seriously_ the prettiest person he’s ever met, and it’s so unfair of him to be so kind and bright to boot, and he’s never wanted to kiss someone so much his entire life.

It’s not like Seungwoo has a hard time being with people, or finding friends. But no one had so immediately made him feel so comfortable and accepted so instantly, like even with as weird as he is, someone thinks he’s just _more_ than just what he is. 

It’s a bit like. Feeling like having a home.

Seungwoo freezes even more at the thought. 

_“Five, Four,”_ rings about around them, and he looks at Seungsik, who’s watching everything with a smile on his face, laughing, and then, he’s looking at Seungwoo too. His expression goes very soft, and his smile goes so tender, and Seungwoo really feels like _someone_ in front of him. Like, he’s someone important. 

And Seungwoo doesn’t know what to make of it. 

_“THREE!”_ the countdown doesn’t stop, and he finds himself freezing more when Seungsik tilts his head at him, before coming nearer, _“TWO!”_

And, he does something stupid, as is on brand, and he extends his hand as the _“ONE!”_ reverberates around them and everyone is kissing someone, and Seungsik blinks, looking down, and looks up at him, before he smiles again, still soft, but Seungwoo can _see_ something that wasn’t there before.

He doesn’t want to hope and say it’s disappointment, even though that’s what it looks like.

“Um, Happy New Year,” Seungwoo says, feeling himself turn red on the face and regret filling up his whole body, even when Seungsik smiles for him, taking his hand in his, so _warm_ and his touch gentle as he says in turn, “Happy New Year, Seungwoo.”

They let go, and Seungwoo immediately misses his touch. Seungsik’s eyes are still kind, his peach hair catching the light and Seungwoo is going _crazy,_ can’t stop thinking of how much he looks like an angel, and Seungsik is saying, “I should let you go back to your friends. I think I’ve taken up a lot of your time as it is.”

Seungwoo wants to stay, wants to tell him, _‘No, they’re brats, they can handle themselves,’_ or, _‘No, I feel like you’re the first person who’s wanted me here ever since I got here,’_ or, _‘No, I’m the one who took up so much of your time,’_ or, _‘No, I want to stay with you.’_

He just says, “I guess so.”

Seungsik smiles still, tells him, “It was really nice to meet you, Seungwoo.”

“You too,” he says. His ears burn. “I’m sorry, I must have been bad company.”

“Not all all,” Seungsik says. His smile just gets wider, softer. “It was worth coming here, after all.”

Seungwoo feels like he’s been lit up from the inside. He blushes, and Seungsik smiles, before Seungwoo makes himself turn away, unable to deal with himself and feeling like he’d very much like to smack himself for being so _stupid._ He scurries back to where he sees Subin’s tiny little head next to Hanse’s bumblebee roots, carefully avoiding Sejun and Byungchan, who _still_ haven't separated, and Hanse turns to him, eyes like fire. It’s instantly apparent to Seungwoo that they’d been watching him interact with the probable love of his life, and are probably even more appalled at his incompetency than he is. 

“What was _that?!”_ Hanse says, giving him a _face._ He gives him _faces_ all the time, but this one is even more _‘???’_ than usual, and Seungwoo feels it, _hard._ “He was so obviously into you? And you didn’t kiss him?”

“I froze!” Seungwoo says, cowering under the look even though Hanse is almost a full head shorter than him. Dangerous bumblebee about to set his flower pants on fire. 

“What’s the use of looking the way you do if you don’t know how to use it to your advantage,” he says, staring at him, obviously disappointed with the way he is letting his height and nose and face go to waste. “I would steal your legs and abs if I could.”

“No, you’re too young to use them for nefarious reasons,” he says instantly. Subin and Hanse glare at him. 

“Did you at least get his number, hyung?” Subin asks him. 

Seungwoo pauses. 

_“Hyung,”_ Hanse says, and Seungwoo would very much like for the earth to swallow him up and never let him see sunlight ever again.

He feels that way still for the rest of the party, in the back of the ride going home, Hanse sprawled and leaning on him as the driver brings them back to their apartment complex, and when he deposits Hanse back in his room, and all the way when he gets back to his own place.

He locks the door behind himself, feeling even worse than he had when before he had left for the stupid party, and he really can’t believe himself. 

He had met the _angel_ of his life, probably. Someone who listened to him without making fun of him, who let him be himself so easily, and didn’t mind it at all. Who liked his clothes and who still talked to him after Seungwoo had spilled beer all over him, who looked at him like he was _everything._

And Seungwoo had _shaken his hand,_ and didn’t even get his number. 

He groans, humiliation and regret ballooning in his chest and he can’t think of anything else, and can’t even take it. He goes to his walk-in closet, turns the light off and tucks himself into the darkest corner, sitting on the floor, and he berates himself, over and over. 

_“Oh,_ you _idiot,”_ he groans, knocking on his head lightly and sighing. “Why’d you do _that,_ I can’t believe it.”

He groans, not wanting to think about it but he does anyway, his brain not letting him forget, for some reason, and he whines, pouting and hiding his face in his knees as he tries to forget everything that had just happened.

He really wants to go back, do everything differently, not be an _idiot._

He wishes he could go back, even just by a few hours.

His head goes blank, then. A small, faint _pop,_ and. 

When he opens his eyes, he’s back in his room, in front of his laptop, his demo playing over the small speakers he’d set up.

His heart stops, and he looks down at the corner of the screen, and his heart jumps even more when he sees the date and time. 

_31 December, 9:40 pm._

“What the _fuck,”_ he breathes, his chest _pounding_ in disbelief, and he looks around, and he doesn’t believe it.

His dad must be playing a prank on him, or something. There is no way, _no way,_ that _that_ had just happened.

He didn’t go back in time to a few hours prior, like he had wished.

There is _no way._

Then, like earlier, his door opens unceremoniously, and Hanse is there, bumblebee head and menacing look on his face, with the _same outfit,_ right at the same time and same way he had earlier, and Seungwoo falls out of his chair and onto the floor in shock.

“Hyung?” he says, staring at him, but he doesn’t offer to help. Seungwoo would roll his eyes, usually, but there’s too much blood rushing through his veins, his brain going into overdrive. “What are you doing? The fuck-”

“Are you gonna ask me to go to a party?” he asks, heart pounding, “At Sejun’s and Byung’s rooftop or something?”

Hanse stares at him, curious but impressed. “How’d you know?”

Seungwoo is about to lose his _mind._ He goes over to his bed, hides under the covers, and Hanse screeches, _just_ like he had before, and Seungwoo is going crazy. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun-”

“Don’t insult my clothes,” Seungwoo then peeks his head out from the covers, glaring at him, remembering the last time this had happened.

“I wasn’t going to. Out loud,” Hanse says, shrugging, and Seungwoo groans, hiding again. “Like, what’s the use of having a body like yours if you’re just going to dress up like you camp out in your parents’ attic-”

“This is _fashion,”_ he glares, and Hanse is barely moved.

“Don’t bring up that fashion degree, it’s useless against me.”

“Well, don’t use Subin against me!” he says, just on the edge of hysterical. 

Hanse stares, but says casually, “He’s totally going, though.”

 _“Fuck,”_ Seungwoo wails, burrowing into his covers, feeling like he’s about to lose his mind. 

There is _no way_ this is happening. Doesn’t know why this is happening. He can’t _believe it._ He balls himself up in his duvet, intent to not leave and go crazy on his own.

But, he remembers with a pound in his chest, peach hair and endearing curled lips and the _softest_ eyes. 

And. His heart skips a beat, and he _knows._

“Okay,” he says in a tiny voice. “I’ll go.”

Hanse stares at him, surprised that he’s agreeing as easily as he is, and he shrugs, saying, “Okay, I’ll leave you to get dressed - but don’t you _dare_ think about getting into those sunflower pants.”

“I will wear _whatever I want_ and you will _keep quiet,”_ he says, kicking him out of his room so he can get ready.

They get to the party, and he sees Subin, with the soju and little cup in his hand all over again, and Seungwoo is still out of it, not even really focusing on what’s happening _all over again,_ right to the smallest detail. Byungchan and Sejun waving at him from the pool, Subin running away from him, Hanse handing him a beer and telling him to not babysit.

He’s freaking out, but. He knows it’s not long, until he sees him again. 

And. He’s determined to do things right, this time. 

Hanse is screeching, and Sejun and Subin are drunk karaoke-ing, and he steps away before they can shock him into spilling his beer, and he turns to his around just before he can bump into someone, and.

There he is, peach hair and soft smile and singing along to the songs over the speakers in that _angelic_ voice of his, and his expensive silk shirt is _dry._ Thank goodness.

“Almost spilled back there,” Seungsik says, smiling at him, and Seungwoo finds himself smiling back, easily, and. He’s warm all over, and he’s so, _so_ pretty. “You okay?”

“I am, sorry about bumping into you,” he says, can’t help but keep the dopey smile on his face, and Seungsik tilts his head at him curiously, but comes closer, and Seungwoo rides on it, feeling a little braver. Here’s his second chance, and he’s going to _take it._ “Hi.”

“Hello,” Seungsik says, blinking at him, but still smiling. Peach angel. 

Seungwoo breathes in, convinces himself that he’s braver than he really is, and he’s already _lived_ through meeting him. He can do this. He _can_ do this. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you feel awkward, but. I couldn’t help hear you sing, and I just wanted to say that you have a really lovely voice.”

“Oh, really?” Seungsik says, and his cheeks pink up at the compliment, and he looks at Seungwoo, looking _so_ interested, and Seungwoo is charmed, all over again. “Thank you.”

Seungwoo smiles, and he offers out his hand, “I’m Seungwoo.”

His hand is taken, easily, into that same gentle, warm touch. “I’m Seungsik,” he says in reply, smiling still, and Seungwoo is finding himself even more enamored, and though Seungsik doesn’t know him all that well, yet, not as much as Seungwoo thinks he knows him, his smile is just as bright, and the way he looks at Seungwoo isn’t any different; still tender, still wonderfully light and kind and gentle.

“I, I just wanted to ask,” he says, taking his chances and remembering from their previous conversation, “I can’t help but think I’ve seen you somewhere? And I really think it’s you, did you happen to do a run of ‘In The Heights’ in the Daehan Theater, earlier this year?”

“I did,” Seungsik says, eyes going wide, and he smiles, laughing a bit, “Oh, wow. Did you watch the show?”

“I did,” Seungwoo says, smiling, doing his best not to stumble over his words this time. “You were a _great_ Benny. So charming, and your chemistry with Nina, it was electric.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Seungsik says, and Seungwoo can’t stop looking at him, getting even pinker with the kind words offered to him. Seungwoo wishes he could offer more, so. He does.

“I know it’s late, but I just wanted to congratulate you on that show,” he says, lowering his face slightly as the song changes and the singing gets louder. Seungsik leans in to hear him better as well, and Seungwoo is feeling himself blush slightly as well. “You were amazing, and you looked really good with black hair.”

“Ah, yeah,” he laughs, reaching up subconsciously to touch the soft swoop of his pink hued hair. “Yeah, this is just for a show. It’s taking some time to get used to.”

“I really like it,” Seungwoo says, smiling for him. “The peach suits you.”

“Thank you,” Seungsik replies, and Seungwoo _feels it,_ that same warmth, and Seungsik doesn’t know him that well yet. Even with their previous encounter, Seungwoo can’t even say he knows him much better. But, he feels it, knows in his _soul,_ that they can be something. Something he knows he’ll treasure.

“I wanted to say too, I like your outfit,” Seungsik says, with the same earnestness and honesty he had before, and somehow, Seungwoo isn’t touched any less.

He smiles, feels himself blush as he tells him, “Thank you. I made it myself.”

“Wow, really?” Seungsik says, eyes wide and impressed.

And, that’s how it begins again, for Seungwoo. They talk, and talk so much more, and he gets to know Seungsik even more than he had the previous time, and he’s _sure,_ now, that Seungsik is nothing short of perfect. He’s more than an angel, can’t quite believe he’s _real,_ in front of him, laughing and smiling at him and sharing in his stupid little jokes, and Seungwoo really, _really,_ wants to have tonight, with him. And maybe even more.

They talk so much, about anything and everything, that Seungwoo almost forgets about _this_ song playing, and they both pause when it does. Seungwoo holds back his laugh, and Seungsik sings along a bit to the beginning, still with that same lightness.

He’s so _cute._

“Ah, I love this song,” Seungsik says, “It’s so romantic, isn’t it?”

Seungwoo doesn’t even want to correct him, this time. He smiles, and agrees, “Yeah, it is. We should probably move away a bit, I feel like they’re going to be a little too much in a bit-”

“Huh?” Seungsik blinks, and he looks, and he understands, as Byungchan and Sejun are suddenly in the middle and getting too handsy, and Seungwoo chuckles a little as they both blush, turning away and making their way to the refreshments table. “So you know them?”

“They’re family,” Seungwoo shrugs, and Seungsik smiles. “They’re a lot, but I’m a lot too. So.”

“I don’t think you’re a lot.”

“You don’t know me very well,” Seungwoo says, chuckling lightly. 

“Well, I want to,” Seungsik says. His face is bright red, but he doesn’t look away.

Seungwoo stares at him, and is beginning to feel the heat crawl up his neck as he listens to the lyrics awkwardly, and he clears his throat, looking down at their drinks, both untouched and undrank and not very cold at all anymore. “Oh, we should, um. Probably get new drinks. These are probably gross, now.”

“I don’t need one,” Seungsik says, not missing a beat, still looking at him, and his gaze is soft still, but. There’s _something,_ slightly heated, infatuated, _more,_ and Seungwoo feels him getting warmer.

And then, the countdown begins, a chorus of _“Ten! Nine! Eight!-”_

Sejun and Byungchan are already in their own world, attached at the mouth and ahead of everyone else, and Seungwoo finds himself feeling frozen, all over again.

But, he doesn’t want to have any regrets. Doesn’t want to make the same mistakes, and he feels like this happened to give him the opportunity to give himself _more._

So, he turns to look at Seungsik, who’s already looking at him, cheeks still pink, but his eyes still warm, making Seungwoo feel lit up from the inside.

He swallows, says, “I know we just met, but. Can I kiss you?”

Seungsik smiles. It’s really almost a smirk, which makes Seungwoo swallow with _want,_ and he replies, as the countdown winds down, “Yes, of course.”

_“Three! Two! One-”_

Seungwoo leans down, just as Seungsik leans up and their lips meet, and everything instantly falls away. 

Seungsik’s lips are soft, gently plush against Seungwoo’s, and he’s sweet against his mouth, and Seungwoo kisses him deeper, moving his lips and tasting him a little more. Seungsik moves with him, tilting his head back and letting Seungwoo cup his face, moving him _just_ so, such that the press of his lips is _perfect,_ melting for both of them. 

Seungsik is bringing his hands up, holding Seungwoo's waist, and he pulls him in closer, until their bodies are flush together, and Seungwoo feels his whole body _burn up,_ his blood singing as he kisses Seungsik, deeper and more, even as everyone else seems to be pulling away, returning to the festivity proper.

And he has no intentions of _ever_ pulling away, especially when Seungsik parts his lips for him, letting him lick into his warm mouth, and Seungwoo is _trembling,_ breathing and gasping as Seungsik _kisses_ him, licking back, curling his tongue around his, breathing him in, sucking gently on Seungwoo’s bottom lip, and.

Seungwoo _wants him._ Anything. Anything he wants. 

Seungsik’s lips are like silk, his kiss steaming but gentle and Seungwoo _has_ to pull back, despite not wanting to, ever, just to breathe and gather himself, overwhelmed at the perfect touch. He leans his forehead against Seungsik’s, breathing deeply as he gets his bearings, and Seungsik breathes him, giving him that _wonderful_ smile, and. 

They’re both laughing, in disbelief, in a pure, bright _joy_ Seungwoo doesn’t think he’d ever felt in this capacity before. He really, _really,_ cannot believe it.

“I know I’m being forward,” Seungsik is saying quietly, brightly, “But. Do you want to come over to my place? For a nightcap?”

They both know it’s not _just_ for that, and Seungwoo had never been so eager to say, “Yeah, I’d love to.”

And they’re both so wrapped up in it, that Seungwoo doesn’t even let the others know he’s leaving, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when they get to Seungsik’s place, and the nightcap is subsequently forgotten about, or really, _ignored,_ and they’re both falling into bed together, lips practically molded together as Seungwoo clambers on to the bed, laying back, only to lean back up to chase Seungsik’s mouth when they part for the merest moment, laughter shared in the air between them.

Seungsik climbs over him, hovering over him with a small smirk on his face, an expression Seungwoo finds himself falling over, bringing himself up to his elbows just to kiss him again, taking in the laugh Seungsik presses against his mouth. 

“Ah, _ah,”_ Seungsik breathes, leaning back slightly and pushing Seungwoo back with a palm to his chest, gentle, but firm, “Wait. I need to know, what are you okay with?”

“Anything,” Seungwoo says breathily, kissing him again. Seungsik chuckles as he pulls away, touching Seungwoo’s jaw with the barest tips of his fingers, and Seungwoo shivers slightly.

“Really? Anything?” he asks, and Seungwoo nods, bringing his arms up to curl around Seungsik’s shoulders, bringing him down and pressing their lips together again. 

“I’ll, I’ll tell you if I don’t like something,” Seungwoo says, licking against Seungsik’s cupid’s bow, and Seungsik looks at him earnestly, waiting to see if he _really_ means it. Seungwoo is pretty sure he won’t dislike anything, but he says, “But, for preference. I’d like you in me. If that’s something you’d want to do.”

“Oh, you have _no_ idea,” he smiles, his eyes dark, and Seungwoo exhales shakily, the night not long enough for everything he wants to do.

They kiss again, heavily, hotly, for several minutes, until Seungwoo can barely feel his lips anymore, until his breathing is labored and the air between them unbearably hot, and he still, _still_ wants more, doesn’t want it to stop. 

Seungsik leans back, getting on his knees to shrug off his jacket, then his expensive silk shirt, and whatever bit Seungwoo had seen of his chest from the deep V collar, and the bit of his stomach from when he had fanned the wetness away in the previous timeline, it had _not_ prepared him at all. Seungsik is lithe, but _broad_ , and it’s clear he works hard, his abs more than lightly defined, _just_ the way Seungwoo likes, his shoulders looking so meaty Seungwoo can’t help but reach up to touch, fingers digging in gently to feel the muscle. 

“Wah,” he hums, reaching to press one of his palms flat against his belly, and Seungsik laughs, reaching down to trace Seungwoo’s long fingers, keeping his hand there. “I like that.”

“I’m sure I’ll like you more,” Seungsik beams, and Seungwoo _blushes,_ can’t help the small noise that escapes his mouth as Seungsik leans in to kiss him wetly again.

Seungwoo is blushing even more as Seungsik leans back to unbutton his yellow sweater, only to pause when he stares down at Seungwoo’s torso when he opens the flaps of the sweater open.

“I was right,” Seungsik says, leaning down to pull Seungwoo up by his charm necklace, kissing him as they go. 

“Ah, it’s expensive,” Seungwoo says, tapping his fingers away, but they’re laughing together as Seungsik lets go, apology easily offered, but Seungwoo shakes his head, unable to stop smiling. “I’ll take it off?”

“And why would you do that and deprive me of an opportunity of having you in a Rose moment?” he says, and Seungwoo is slow to understand the reference. When he does, he blushes, knows it goes all the way down to his chest, and he whines, shaking his head hiding his face in Seungsik’s neck, but not really hating the idea, at all. 

“Like one of your French girls,” he says, feeling even more embarrassed, and Seungsik laughs, tilting his head up so he can kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth and his hands, _hot,_ touching him everywhere, taking the time to trace the lines of the tattoos on his chest, his shoulder, with a deep respect that makes Seungwoo _burn._

They strip each other of their clothes, and then they’re naked, wrapped up in each other, hands _everywhere,_ and Seungwoo breathes him in, Seungsik’s hands moving down the length of his sides, his thigh, only to bring up his leg to wrap over his waist. Seungsik is warm above him, and Seungwoo’s belly is hot and his head hits the pillow as he throws it back, moaning as Seungsik kisses the side of neck, teeth pulling gently on the large floral beads of his necklace, his hand reaching down to wrap around his length, stroking him slowly and getting him hard, not taking much time at all.

“You okay?” Seungsik asks him, and Seungwoo is burning, nodding and feeling his face burn bright red, but he moans, toes curling as Seungsik swipes his thumb against the slit, and he whines, curling away.

“N-No, please don’t. I’m, I’ll come,” he says, and Seungsik pauses. He pulls his hand away, only to bring it up to tilt his chin up, angling his lips over his and kissing him heatedly. 

“Can I get you ready?” he asks in the _softest_ tone, and Seungwoo is nodding easily, really just a few breaths away from panting, and Seungsik kisses him again, is so _generous_ with his lips, which is really all to Seungwoo’s advantage. 

And his hands. _His hands,_ slicked up and reaching down to trace Seungwoo’s hole with sure, gentle strokes, dipping in and pushing in slowly, and Seungwoo is trembling under him, shaking as his ass is opened up, with one finger, then another, and another. The way Seungsik keeps murmuring too many sweet words into his ear, telling him well he’s doing, and how good he’s going to feel around him, certainly isn’t helping him calm down, his entire body singing with it.

Seungsik fucks him open with three fingers, and Seungwoo is curling around him, moaning and making small noises as he moves his hips along, wanting him closer and closer still, and he’s trembling, shaking more and more as Seungsik leans in to kiss him all over his face.

“You’re doing so well,” Seungsik tells him, twisting his fingers into him and spreading them apart, and Seungwoo cries out, trying to muffle his noises, but Seungsik just tells him, “It’s okay. You don’t need to hold back.”

Oh, Seungwoo wants him _forever._ He doesn’t hold back, moaning as he’s fingered and he reaches down, touching Seungsik’s cock and curling his fingers around his length, and Seungsik moans, pausing as Seungwoo strokes him slowly.

“Why are you stopping?” Seungwoo pouts, and Seungsik smiles, kissing him as a way to appease him gently as he pushes his fingers into him again. 

Seungwoo gasps, and his whole body is hot, knows he’s not that far off from coming, and he doesn’t want it to end just like that. He wants Seungsik in him, wants his cock inside him, and he’s blushing and his whole body is red with the thought but he doesn’t give a shit anymore. 

He takes the condom Seungsik had brought out earlier on, and rips it open, and with hands that shake too much for him to be proud, he rolls it on to his cock, and Seungsik moans again, even louder, his arms shaking on either side of Seungwoo as Seungwoo pushes it down with his fingers, down as far as it can go, and he takes a bit of lube and slicks him up, gets him ready to fuck into him. 

“Now, now please,” he says, looking up at him with nervous, heated eyes, and he doesn’t know if he looks sexy or not, feeling a little foolish. 

But, Seungsik is groaning, leaning in to kiss him a little harder, slightly rougher, but still so _good,_ making Seungwoo moan and spread his legs a little wider for him. 

And Seungsik doesn’t make him wait for much longer. He leans down to kiss him tenderly, pulling his fingers out of him and moving his body carefully, bringing a pillow down and placing it under Seungwoo’s hips, so quietly thoughtful and making him blush _so much,_ and when Seungwoo feels the first press of his cock against the rim of his ass, he gasps, exhaling shakily as he braces himself. 

Seungsik is gentle to a fault, waiting for him, and Seungwoo is so _thankful,_ doesn’t know why he’s so nervous, but it feels _important,_ somehow. And when Seungsik pushes into him, sinking his cock into him and filling him up, more and more until he bottoms out, Seungwoo moans, knowing it _is,_ it’s _so important._

 _“_ Oh, _oh god,”_ he whines, feeling so _full_ and out of breath already. “You, _oh,_ you feel so good.”

“You feel even better,” Seungsik tells him, voice tight as he waits for Seungwoo to tell him to move, and Seungwoo really, truly appreciates him for being so patient, so gentle, but. 

He wants _more._

“S-Seungsik,” he breathes, trembling as he opens his eyes again, seeing Seungsik is already looking down at him, warmth on his face, but his eyes. Dark, _wanting,_ and Seungwoo wants to. “Sikie, can I call you Sikie?”

“You can call me anything you like,” he replies, and Seungwoo feels his belly get even hotter. 

“Ah, _ah, fuck,”_ he moans, wrapping his arms over his shoulder and drawing him nearer. “Fuck me, please. You don’t need to be so gentle.”

“Oh,” Seungsik breathes, and he doesn’t take another moment to pause. He pulls back his hips, pulling out until just the tip of his cock keeps Seungwoo open, and he’s _plunging_ his cock back into his ass, ending with a smack of his hips against Seungwoo’s ass, making them both _moan_ loudly as their bodies come together. 

“Oh, _fuck,”_ Seungwoo cries out, louder so as Seungsik does it again, even harder and just this much harder, and Seungwoo reaches up, his hands tangling into Seungsik’s peach hair, pulling slightly as he’s fucked. 

Seungsik doesn’t pull away; really, he _moans_ as Seungwoo tugs at his strands gently, pumping his cock faster into Seungwoo’s hole, urged on by Seungwoo’s soft noises and the warmth of his ass around him, and Seungwoo hopes he’s good for him. He _hopes_ that Seungsik feels just as good as he’s making him feel, so full and taken care of. 

And Seungsik, without even knowing, somehow knows _just_ what to say. “Oh, _oh,_ you feel so good around me.”

“Am I good for you?” he asks, doesn’t know why it comes out so shy, but Seungsik is leaning in to kiss him, his lips achingly tender against Seungwoo’s mouth.

“So good,” he tells him, breathing deeply as he drives into him, fucking into Seungwoo with careful, measured thrusts, plowing into him hard enough that Seungwoo feels him jostle up the bed slightly, but it’s slow, pauses in between to let his gasps breathe in between each other. “You’re tight, but you’re taking me so well.”

“Oh, _fuck,”_ Seungwoo moans, hiding his face in Seungsik’s neck as he’s drilled into, crossing his ankles together around Seungsik’s back, trying to get him in deeper, closer, harder. “Ah, _ah,_ more-”

He’s trembling, and Seungsik holds him close as he pounds into him, his cock feeling _perfect_ as it sinks into him. He feels _so good,_ and he makes good on Seungwoo’s request, fucking him a little harder, a little faster, until the sound of their skin meeting is a steady rhythm that fills the room, and the bed moves with them, squeaking, skidding against the floor. He’s sure that the headboard is making obscene thumps against the wall, but he _can’t_ care, not when Seungsik leans in to kiss him again, teeth pulling lightly and sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, his hips moving faster still, spearing into him with a heavenly pace.

“Seungwoo, baby,” Seungsik murmurs as he pounds into him, _hard,_ and Seungwoo cries out, feeling himself go _hot_ at being called so sweetly. It’s been a while, and it’s never sounded so pure, so wholly _wonderful_ as it had, from Seungsik’s lips. “Fuck, _fuck.”_

Seungwoo whines, whimpering as he shakes still, and he’s unhooking his legs around his waist, and setting his feet flat on the bed, spreading his thighs wide for him. The next plunge in is harder, more visceral, and Seungwoo gasps, _loudly,_ and Seungsik must _know,_ because he doesn’t pull back, instead grinding in more, _hard,_ pushing his hips forwards and rolling them, pushing his cock inside him and getting at that _perfect_ angle, never moving away.

“Oh, _oh, right there,”_ Seungwoo whimpers, his legs parting even more to make room for Seungsik, needing him closer still, needing him to _fill him up._ “More, Sikie, you can give me more-“

“Okay, then,” he says, giving him a little smile, and then he grips his waist tightly, before bringing Seungwoo down to his cock as he rocks forward, and Seungwoo _gasps,_ pants as he throws his head back trembles as he’s fucked into, and he can’t help it. He wails, _loudly,_ as Seungsik doubles his pace, fucking into him harder still and making him take it, making him take his cock and Seungnwoo’s whole body is _hot_ with it. 

Seungsik is so _sexy,_ smirking at him gently as he brings Seungwoo down to his cock and makes him take it, and Seungwoo knows he’s done for. He knows it won’t take him much time at all. 

He whines, gasping as he’s pounded into, and the necklace falls back on his neck, the thick beads right on the most hollow part of his throat and he can’t be bothered to move it away as he lays back on the sheets, arms shaking as he reaches over to takes Seungsik’s ass in his palms, making him moan.

“Seungwoo?” he says, fucking him still but his pace slowing as he watches him, “What is it? Am I too rough?”

 _You’re not rough at all,_ Seungwoo thinks, but his face burns, his ass filled and his chest _full_ of so many good and overwhelming things, it’s all he can do to shake his head, whining as he holds on tighter, feeling the way Seungsik’s ass clenches under his palms every time he drives into him. 

“Ah, _ah,”_ he cries, holding on tighter, and _pushing_ him along to fuck him harder. “Harder, please. _Fuck me.”_

“Oh, Seungwoo, _baby,”_ Seungsik moans, lowering himself to kiss him, steaming and wet, and Seungwoo takes him in, parting his lips so they can lick into each other’s mouths, and he plows into him, making each thrust harder than the last, cramming his cock into his ass and making Seungwoo gasp with every breath.

“I - _ah, fuck -_ k-keep calling me that,” he moans, whimpering as he’s pounded into harder, hotter.

“Hmm, baby? You like that?” he asks him, and he sounds so earnest when he does so, but it’s unintentionally so _hot,_ and Seungwoo is about to combust, his insides burning. “Baby. _Baby._ Call me baby, too.”

 _“Baby,”_ Seungwoo breathes, and Seungsik chuckles, beaming down at him before leaning in to kiss him again. Baby, _baby, baby._

It’s not long at all, before things are getting to be _too much,_ his belly too hot and his body shaking and trembling with the need for release. Seungwoo whines, closing his eyes and taking in Seungsik’s cock as it drives into his ass, curling around him, and he whimpers, “I, I’m going to come, I can’t hold it for much longer.”

Seungsik, the prettiest peach angel that he is, brings one hand up to cup Seungwoo’s face, tilt his head up and place the most _steaming,_ silky kiss on his lips, letting him moan into his mouth, and he _fucks_ him harder, ramming into him, making him feel _incredible._

“Don’t hold back,” Seungsik tells him gently, completely contradictory with the way he’s drilling into Seungwoo’s body, pushing himself into his ass. 

And Seungwoo doesn’t, when Seungsik brings his other hand down to wrap around his cock. Barely a few pulls, and he’s gasping, shooting white over Seungsik’s fingers, over his own stomach, and he trembles as his body lights up from the inside, sparks in his veins, his ass clenching around the cock still driving into him. 

“Oh, _god,”_ he keeps trembling, bringing his arms up and tangling them over Seungsik’s shoulders, his legs feeling like they’ve completely given out. “Sikie, _Sikie, baby-”_

Seungsik is smiling, pressing a small kiss on the tip of Seungwoo’s nose, saying, “You okay?”

“So okay,” he tells him, and he knows his smile is all dopey, but he doesn’t care. Seungsik is grinning down at him, so warm on top of him, and still _hard_ inside him, and he says, “Come too, okay?”

 _What the fuck,_ who says shit like that. Seungwoo feels his ears burn, but Seungsik doesn’t laugh. He just smiles, nodding as he leans down to kiss Seungwoo’s cheek in a prolonged, lingering press of his lips.

“Okay. Will you tell me if it’s too much?” he asks, and Seungwoo nods, smiling at him, doubting anything he’d do would be _too much,_ but he’s warm all over, a beautiful angel who somehow just _knew_ how to make his whole body sing, who called him pretty and soft names, who kissed him with so much heat and lightness, who always asked him how he was doing and took care of him so gently, and. 

Seungwoo is in a dream. It _feels_ like _a dream,_ and he never wants to wake up.

Seungsik is pushing into him, slowly, watching for his reaction, and Seungwoo curls his limbs around him more, moving his legs and urging him in more, faster, with his feet crossed over his ass. Seungsik takes the hint, blessedly, and he fucks hinto him properly, and he does it again, and again, until he’s pushing into Seungwoo’s ass with a steady, _hard_ pace, his cock plunging into him, cramming him full.

Seungwoo is moaning, his body sensitive, but it all feels so _good,_ so wonderfully tingly as he’s pushed into, and it’s not long until he feels Seungsik going _faster,_ his pace slipping slightly as he chases his own high. 

“Ah, _fuck,”_ Seungsik is breathing, exhaling as he hammers into Seungwoo, “Fuck, baby. _Fuck,_ you feel so good.”

Seungwoo _preens,_ feeling shy but so _happy,_ and he brings Seungsik’s face down to kiss him, encouraging him to come soon as he rolls his hips back to Seungsik’s own, and Seungsik is sinking into him, faster, deeper. He’s angling his hips on the pillow, so his cock plunges into him _just so,_ and it’s entirely too soon for Seungwoo to come again, but he _moans,_ high and loud, overwhelmed and feeling _too good._

“Sikie, _oh, baby,”_ he moans, and that’s it; Seungsik gasps, moans as he grinds into his ass, and he fills up the condom, pushing into Seungwoo as he comes and comes. Seungwoo holds him as he does, pulling him down to his body and letting him calm down as he comes down, and Seungsik melts against him, breathing slowly and taking the moment to breathe. 

It’s quiet, _perfect,_ and Seungwoo stays wrapped up in Seungsik, and they breathe together, taking it all in.

And. Seungwoo cannot help the small laugh that bubbles up from his chest, and he covers his mouth, mortified that he’d let it out. But Seungsik just leans back, a bright beam on his face, small chuckles escaping his lips as he cups Seungwoo’s face. 

“I know. Me too,” he tells him, reassuring him, and Seungwoo melts all over again, wondering how someone so _perfect_ would ever be allowed in his life. That he would be given this chance to have a night like _this._

Seungsik kisses him once, letting their lips linger together for many moments, and then, they’re laughing into each other’s mouths, not quite believing the _dream_ that the last few hours had been. He pulls out of Seungwoo carefully, watching him for any discomfort, and Seungwoo blinks as Seungsik gets up to throw the tied up condom, disappearing off to another door he assumes is the bathroom, and when he comes back out, there’s a washcloth in his hands.

“Oh, um, I can do that,” Seungwoo says, but Seungsik is already sitting next to him, bringing the slightly damp cloth to his torso, and he cleans him gently, and Seungwoo feels like he’s blushing all over again. He probably is.

“It’s okay,” Seungsik says, smiling still, and he makes careful work of it. Seungwoo stills under him, and he watches as Seungsik wipes him clean, a calm look on his face as he goes, and Seungwoo feels like he’s the complete _opposite._ Now that the high is gone and things have settled, he wonders what’s going to happen now; if he’ll be kicked out, if he’ll be allowed to sleep over, and if so, if he’ll have to shuffle on over to the couch he had seen outside in the living room, or, his horror, if he’ll wake up from the wonderful dream that this is, and open his eyes and be back home, sitting on the floor of his closet, because _time travel isn’t real._

But, Seungsik just places the cloth to the side when he finishes, and lays down next to Seungwoo, bringing up the duvet around them, none the wiser to his internal turmoil. He’s so _warm,_ so beautiful and he’s really an _angel,_ pink-hued and bright like a flower, and Seungwoo can’t stop staring at him, wondering if this is really happening.

“You’re not uncomfortable, are you?” Seungsik asks him, his voice already low with exhaustion, and Seungwoo shakes his head, and. He gives in, because if this is a dream, if this isn’t real, he’ll milk it for all its worth, now. He makes himself small, curling into Seungsik’s warmth and burrowing himself into his chest, closing his eyes as arms come up around him, bringing him in _even closer,_ lips pressing against his hairline and warm words murmured against his skin, “Good night, baby.”

He could _explode,_ but he just mumbles back, “Good night, Sikie.”

And. He sleeps, falling into it easily, and the warmth stays with him.

.

He wakes up, the sun is bright, and. He’s alone.

Seungwoo sighs, and he buries himself under the sheets, knowing it was all too good to be true. Perfect man, with the perfect smile and perfect cock and a perfect night together, he _knew_ it couldn’t be anything more than a dream. He groans, burrito-ing himself in the blankets and kicking at the air as he huffs, annoyed that he had fallen for it all so easily. 

Of course, _of course,_ time travel wasn’t real. He sighs, frowning at how elaborate and _real_ his dream had been, so real that his ass throbbed and hips twinge with the phantom ache of being fucked, and he’s sad, that it couldn’t have been true.

It was _such_ a nice dream. 

He misses Seungsik already. He sniffs, and is not beyond wailing.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

He jumps, and he hides himself under the covers, curling into a ball and making himself look as small as possible. His chest races, and he’s about to chew Hanse out for barging into his apartment again, but someone is saying, “I wasn’t sure what you’d like for breakfast. I hope some eggs and ham over rice is okay?”

Seungwoo pauses. Hanse would _never_ bring him breakfast willingly, not without a bargain to make.

His heart races again, and he peeks his head out from the little opening of the sheets, and. 

Peach hair, a tilted head, and a curious, amused smile greet him, and his heart beats faster still, though his chest calms for a reason. 

“Sikie?” he mumbles, and Seungsik smiles wider, looking at him. “I - it’s _real?_ Last night wasn’t a dream?”

“I hope it isn’t,” Seungsik says, and Seungwoo tucks his face back into the blankets, looking down at himself, _finally_ realizing that he’s naked, save for the necklace still locked around his neck. His chest pounds even more, and he looks up again, sees Seungsik waiting for him patiently, and he feels his cheeks pink up, knowing he must look ridiculous. 

But, Seungsik doesn’t seem fazed. He comes into the room, two bowls of food and chopsticks in his hands, and he sits down on the bed right in front of him, giving him a little smile as he offers him some breakfast. 

“Happy New Year,” he greets Seungwoo tenderly, and Seungwoo’s ears burn when he realizes the day.

 _“Shit,_ I forgot that’s a thing,” he says, and Seungsik chuckles. He puts down the bowls, and Seungwoo watches from the little opening he’d made for his face as Seungsik gathers a little mouthful with his chopsticks, and he brings it up with a hand under to catch anything that might fall, offering the first bite to Seungwoo.

“It’s good while it’s warm,” Seungsik tells him, smiling kindly, and Seungwoo can’t stop looking at him. Feels like his face is flaming, but he shuffles forward, still unwilling to let go of the safety cocoon he’d made himself, and he opens his mouth to accept the morsel. Seungsik smiles, bringing it up to his mouth and feeding him, following it up with a little kimchi, and Seungwoo is _so embarrassed,_ for some reason. He can’t stop blushing, can’t look up at him for too long; it’s not as if he’d never spent the night with another person, but. He’d never spent the night with someone he _likes so much,_ immediately. 

He doesn’t know how to act, or what to say. So, he retreats into his duvet burrito and covers himself up, feeling really, _really,_ ridiculously shy.

Seungsik looks at him, and he doesn’t pause. He gives him a gentle smile, before he’s shucking off his shirt, making Seungwoo’s eyes go wide as his _delicious_ torso is revealed again, but not for very long, because. He’s pulling at the thinner blanket left tangled on the bed, and pulling it over his head, making a little cocoon for himself as well. He blinks as he peeks out from the opening he’d made, and he smiles at Seungwoo, telling him, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Do you mind if I join you?”

Oh, _god._ Seungwoo is already almost completely _in love_ with him. 

He blushes even more, hiding his cheeks, but he nods, a big blob of duvet just bobbing along, and Seungsik beams, looking pleased with himself. 

He feeds him another bite, and another, and Seungwoo gathers himself, still feeling sheepish but. He’s not in any way uncomfortable; if anything, Seungsik makes him feel _accepted,_ in a way he’s unfamiliar with. He doesn’t think that he’s unaccepted, and he _knows_ people accept him, he knows Hanse and Sejun and Byunchan and Subin and his family and a lot of his workmates love him for his eccentricities, but. 

It’s different, to be taken _completely_ as he is, and maybe, even be thought fondly of, as easily and unquestionably as Seungsik had.

He reaches down, taking the other pair of chopsticks himself, and he sees Seungsik smile, drawing back and obviously thinking that Seungwoo is ready to feed himself, but Seungwoo reaches over, making as manageable a mouthful as he can get on to the chopsticks, and he brings it up to Seungsik’s mouth. 

He blushes as Seungsik stares at him, surprised, but he’s rewarded with a tender smile, and Seungsik accepts the food offered to him readily, grinning as he chews, and _he’s so cute,_ Seungwoo can barely stand it.

The morning, by _any_ standards, is nothing short of wonderful. It’s quiet, not as sexy as Seungwoo would have maybe liked, but the little bowls of food stretches on for a few hours, the words between making the morning seem long but too short altogether. They talk, and talk, about anything and everything, and with each word, Seungwoo, already reluctant to have to even think about going home, is nothing short of disappointed about not staying here much longer. 

Seungsik shakes his head as Seungwoo offers to help him clean up, instead offers his bathroom for his use to refresh himself, and Seungwoo shuffles in the direction pointed to him, feeling a little dejected.

It’s nearing the afternoon, and he knows that he’s overstayed his welcome, knows he needs to leave soon and get out of Seungsik’s perfectly swoopy and soft peachy-hued hair, but. 

He can’t help but _not want to._

He sighs every other minute as he dresses himself back up, washing his face and partaking in a little bit of mouthwash, and he stares at himself in the mirror. Sees how much he _doesn’t_ want to go. 

He sighs again, feeling the heaviness settle in his chest, down to his bones, and he feels like his legs are made of lead as he walks out of the bathroom, then out to the living area, where Seungsik is in the kitchen, washing dishes, humming and singing along to a song Seungwoo doesn’t know, but already loves, just from his voice alone.

He looks a lot like home.

 _Oh god,_ **_stop,_ ** Seungwoo yells at himself internally, and he’s accidentally coughing as he tries to stop himself from thinking _that_ way. Seungsik looks up, and he’s smiling warmly at him, looking so _pretty_ and Seungwoo finds himself feeling even more unwilling to leave. 

He clears his throat, and he says reluctantly, quietly, “I, um. I guess I should get going, I’ve really overstayed my welcome, at this point.”

“You didn’t,” Seungsik says, his smile dropping into a gentle pout, and Seungwoo is in danger of melting into it again. “I really liked having you here.”

“Still. I, I think I’ve imposed enough, you even fed me,” Seungwoo says, and Seungsik waves it off.

“It really was no trouble,” he replies, and Seungwoo watches him, doesn’t ever want to stop looking at him, maybe ever. 

He swallows, and he moves nervously, the most nervous he’s felt since he’d gotten here, or even when he’d met Seungsik. 

He feels like he’s doing something completely wrong. That he shouldn’t be leaving. That he’s making a mistake, leaving it like this. 

But, he doesn’t know what to do. So, he stands there, awkwardly, wondering how he should take his leave, until Seungsik _must_ have mercy on him, as he does, and he smiles gently, handing over his phone and asking him, “Give me yours. I’ll put in my number, and. Give me yours too?”

“I, yeah. Yes, of course,” Seungwoo says, eyes wide as he takes Seungsik’s phone and gives him his, and he feels himself blush as he inputs himself into his contacts list. He debates about giving himself a cute name and a cute picture, and he bites, giving in, feeling a little ridiculous as he does so, but when he gets back his phone, his heart skips and calms when he sees the _adorable_ picture Seungsik had set up for himself, a selfie in which he’s smiling so warmly and his eyes, beautiful half-moon lids that make Seungwoo’s belly go all warm again. And his name, Seungwoo is falling, faster and faster still. 

_Kang Ddaeng Ddaeng._ He _cannot_ be any more endearing.

 _“‘Baby Wooya?’”_ Seungsik says, reading his details, smiling at the picture Seungwoo had given himself. He looks up and Seungwoo _sees_ it. The way his cheeks just pink up and become so _soft_ and pillowy and it’s _Ddaeng Ddaeng,_ through and through. “You’re adorable.”

Seungwoo feels himself burn, so _happy._ So filled with a warmth he can’t quite put to words. “You’re cuter.”

Seungsik shakes his head, and Seungwoo is watching, not knowing what to do with himself, not knowing how to just. Accept that he doesn’t want to go.

“You can contact me anytime,” Seungsik tells him, his smile so gentle, “I would really like to see you again.”

Seungwoo blinks, feeling himself blush. “Really?”

Seungsik smiles, too patient for how slow and oblivious Seungwoo is, and Seungwoo feels his kindness, his easy endearment wash over him, “I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I really like you.”

 _Oh god._ Seungwoo is _burning,_ “I like you, too.”

“Then, that’s good,” Seungsik is beaming, light in his eyes, and Seungwoo sees the way his ears turn red, even darker than the pink hue of his hair. 

Seungwoo looks at him, and he says in a small voice, “Thank you. It’s, it’s been a while, since I’ve had a really good New Year’s.”

Seungsik looks at him, and he beckons him closer, easily, saying, “Come here.”

Seungwoo comes, and he’s pulled into an embrace so warm, so tender and accepting and affectionate, he never wants to pull away. He comes down a bit, making himself smaller and tucking his face into Seungsik’s neckq, and he closes his eyes as he hugs him back, taking in the warmth.

He doesn’t want to go, doesn’t want to pull away, but he does, feeling the loss instantly as he does. “Then. Um, I should get going.”

Seungsik gives him a small smile, a little sad, “Okay, then. Will you be alright, getting back?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” he replies, smiling in turn. He really doesn’t want to go.

“Okay,” Seungsik says. His hand is warm where it holds Seungwoo’s, his thumb stroking Seungwoo’s skin gently, and he lets go, much to Seungwoo’s disappointment. “You have my number.”

“I’ll call you soon,” Seungwoo says, as soon as he gets home, even, and he smiles at him one more time, before he toes on his shoes and opens the door, turning back to give Seungsik a small wave, Seungsik smiling and giving him one in turn. And then, Seungwoo is going through the door, and he leaves, feeling _incomplete._

He sighs when he makes it to the elevators, pressing the button to go down halfheartedly, and he waits, for one to stop at the floor, turning his phone on to book a car going back to his place.

The screen turns back on, and it’s on Seungsik’s picture, his smile making his eyes bright and dimples on his cheeks, and.

Seungwoo breathes, doesn’t even wait for the elevator. His chest pounds as he makes his way back to Seungsik’s door without another thought, not wanting to wait anymore, not wanting to wish he could go back in time and do things differently. He’ll do it _now,_ he’ll be brave _now,_ and hope he’s wanted.

He presses at the doorbell, his heart racing in his chest, but he gathers his courage, feeling simultaneously braver and altogether _terrified_ when Seungsik opens the door, blinking when he sees it’s him, but he doesn’t look disappointed. Seungwoo sees the lightness of his eyes, the rosiness of his cheeks, and he breathes, telling himself to be brave.

“I just. I don’t want to have to text you to ask when to see you again,” he says. He feels like the words come out of him like a waterfall, all at once and without a breath in between, and Seungsik looks at him, face pinking up even more, but he’s biting his lips, as if he’s trying to hide his smile. Seungwoo doesn’t really know what it means, but he goes on, anyway, “I just. I like you. I really, _really,_ like you. I want to take you out to dinner. Tomorrow. Or tonight, or any night. All the nights. All the days.”

He rambles, unable to stop, and he feels his face burn with each moment that passes. He’s doing it _wrong,_ all wrong, feeling awkward as hell as Seungsik watches him still as he tries to gather his words, and he thinks very seriously about hiding in the darkest corner he can find and willing himself to go back a few minutes in time, do this more smoothly.

But then, Seungsik is coming forward, tilting his head up, and pressing their lips together. He kisses him, and Seungwoo stops, feeling like his chest is about to explode, before Seungsik licks against his mouth and pulls him in. And, it’s almost instant, the way Seungwoo just _melts_ into him, parting his lips so their tongues can meet, leaning down to wrap his arms around his waist and lifting him up slightly to his toes, bringing him nearer, nearer still. 

He feels a little lightheaded as they part, and he blinks many times over as Seungsik looks up at him, smiling _that_ smile, and Seungwoo is swallowing heavily, saying, “Oh. Um, uh-”

“That’s me,” Seungsik starts, pressing a small, swift kiss against his mouth, making Seungwoo chase after his lips, smiling when he catches the corner of his mouth instead, “telling you, that you should pick me up, and bring me back to bed.”

Seungwoo blinks. Blinks again, until he understands what he’d just been told to do, and then. His heart is beating right out of his chest, his legs almost like jelly, but he says, “Right, _right._ Yes, _of course,”_ he says, face burning and his chest light as he picks Seungsik up in his arms, his laughter so _bright_ and completely enchanting in his ears as he hitches his legs around Seungwoo’s waist, clinging on as Seungwoo walks them back to the bedroom, sometimes bumping them into things, making him laugh even _more,_ so _beautiful._

And when he gets them to the bed, laying Seungsik down on the sheets, kissing him hard and wet as Seungsik holds his face close, spreading his legs for him to settle between them, he’s already hot, sweating under his top and his pants feeling all that much tighter. He looks down as they pull apart, Seungsik’s cheeks bright pink, but his gaze, _steaming,_ dark, his torso shining in a thin film of sweat already, _wanting_ Seungwoo in a way that feels almost foreign, but so, _so_ welcome. 

Seungwoo kisses him again, touching him _everywhere,_ Seungsik touching him back, and Seungwoo breathes hard as he gets naked again, Seungsik giggling as Seungwoo takes his waist in his hands, lifts his hips up from the bed, pulling down the shorts he’d pulled on and spreading his legs wider for him, waiting and wanting as he watches Seungwoo slicks up his fingers. 

And, as Seungsik _moans_ as Seungwoo pushes his finger into his hole, slow, careful, sensual, Seungwoo is very close to losing his mind. Doesn’t know _how_ someone who didn’t know that ‘Versace On The Floor’ was about sex could be _so sexy,_ so much sexier than that cursed song, but he realizes. 

Seungsik didn’t need the song. He’s just sexy _as is,_ and endearing and adorable and _sensual_ and _so perfect._

And Seungwoo is too _blessed_ to be here, being pulled down to kiss him, body melting onto his, finding a home in him, and inside him. 

.

He ends up going back to his place late in the afternoon after _several_ hours in bed, laughing and moaning together, and he’s not staying for long. Just to take a shower and a change of clothes, he and Seungsik having made plans to go to a lantern show after some dinner. 

Seungwoo is light on his feet, unable to not smile as he gets ready; it’s never been so _easy,_ to be so happy and warm and accepted like this. He thanks his past self for plucking up the courage, and for locking himself up in a dark room to wallow in his humiliation and misery. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have had this second chance by accident. 

He pauses just as he’s getting into his pants, remembering suddenly the words his dad told him. 

Instantly, goosebumps erupt all over his body, and he shivers, can’t _believe_ that his dad wasn’t shitting him. It’s _real._

He makes a call to his parents, greeting his mom first, his good mood extending to the call and making her remark, _“Oh? You’re very talkative today.”_

“Uh huh,” he grins, unable to control his smile. “Just really optimistic for the new year.”

He ends up talking to her for almost twenty minutes, before she hands the phone off to his father, a low, _“Seungwoo,”_ hummed through the speaker. 

Seungwoo _knows_ he should really greet him for the New Year before anything else, do the usual compulsory filial piety, but he can’t help it that the first thing out of his mouth is, “Holy _shit.”_

His father hums. _“Happy New Year to you, too.”_

“Dad,” he says, “It worked. It _worked._ I didn’t, I. Holy _shit.”_

His father isn’t phased, seeming to understand what Seungwoo was talking about almost immediately. He hums, and says, _“Hmm. Would you like to pay upfront, or in installments?”_

It takes several moments of blank thinking for Seungwoo to understand, before he remembers the bet they’d made on his birthday. He groans, but he can’t even be truly disappointed. He knows he wouldn’t have had the night he’d had with Seungsik, and this day, the brightest eighteen-something hours of his whole _life,_ if this weren’t real. He wouldn’t even have had a chance.

His father chuckles, and he asks him, _“Well, what happened?”_

Seungwoo can’t help it. He _spills,_ “I went back a day last night, so I lived through New Year’s Eve, twice? It was an accident but it _worked_ and I had the most amazing day and I met the most _amazing, perfect_ person and I kind of fucked it up the first time but? I went back? I mean, I didn’t even _mean_ to go back, but I did and? Somehow, he _likes_ me? I don’t know, but he does?”

His father laughs, tells him, _“Why wouldn’t he like you? You’re funny and you inherited my nose and height, and you have great style.”_

“I _know,_ but _still,”_ Seungwoo says, but he’s too happy. He can’t stop smiling, and he _likes_ Seungsik so much. He’s almost sure that if he were to go into the somewhat future, he’s bound to find them together still. It’s never been so clear to him so early on, before.

His father chuckles, and tells him, _“Well. Seungsik must be a really lovely boy.”_

“He’s the _loveliest,”_ Seungwoo says, smiling dreamily and feeling his chest go all warm at the mere mention of his name. Then, he pauses, realizing what his father had just said, “Wait. How’d you know his name?”

A pause on the other end of the line, and a prolonged, _“Uhhhh.”_

Seungwoo blinks, and he realizes, “Did you go back in time after seeing what would happen and decided to make that bet?”

 _“Oh, I think your mother is calling me. Have a good date,”_ his father says in a rush, and mentioning the date Seungwoo didn’t even tell him about just _proves_ that he knows too much.

“Dad, you old _shit,_ why are you scamming your own son?” Seungwoo pouts, only to be hung up on abruptly. 

He sighs, ready to chew him out, but before he can even redial the number, he receives a text.

 _‘Can’t wait to see you,’_ with a picture attached of Seungsik, using the _cutest_ puppy filter, and Seungwoo smiles uncontrollably to himself, falling back on his bed, kicking at his blankets and rolling around, too happy.

Really, it’s _never_ been so clear, before.

.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll add more to this universe in the future. :)
> 
> please! talk to me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/xiusikwoo)


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